#ive spooked myself.

[3416]

being on my real life social media accounts and seeing people get married , have kids, get promotions and switching back over here just to look at some pictures and think about some hockey players as if it's my lifes purpose

[dapperrokyuu]

"The aim of this game is to answer and then tag some mutuals you wanna know better or catch up with." Thank you for tagging me, @torterrachampion! I always appreciate it…!

Favourite colour: Blue! Particularly something along the lines of navy or midnight blue. Reminds me of the night sky and stars, even if the night sky isnt blue at all, lololol- Its a pretty, whimsical, and elegant color!

Last song played: As of writing, I listened to Eureka by natori! Recently made a playlist for the artist’s work, its once of my favorite songs of theirs. Im almost tempted to try making translyrics for it, maybe someday!!! Warning for imagery of implied suicide if you search for it tho, ljfbladkjnlajdkfn-

Currently reading: I have a ton of manga I actively keep up with, so a shorter answer would be what Ive recently started/returned to reading…to which, I have nothing, lol. Recently, Ive finished Houseki no Kuni, which I really enjoyed and want to talk about sometime…! Otherwise, I have an off and on read of Windbreaker and am working on what to read next. If a list of manga I actively keep up with is wanted, I could do it, but itd be a bit much. And I always love recs, manga, book-wise, and media in general!

Currently craving: At the time of this writing, oddly…bread pudding? Before trying it, I thought the concept was gross. But its like…more creamy, luscious french toast? Which is my favorite out of it, waffles, and pancakes, lol. It can be refreshing and melts in your mouth! What can I say, I love bread- At the time of me queue-ing, my craving is tiramisu, someone tell me where to get it, fdlknbadklna-

Coffee or tea: Definitely coffee! Particularly iced. I just have experienced more coffee than tea and would like to try more of the latter! It just seems like a whole different world, lol… I always think that, like wine tasting, there should be other tasting events, a missed opportunity, smh.

[arcaneyouth]

i love to be cozy and warm in my comfy comfy bed with my shark blanket and kitty pillow and also watching horror videos and scaring myself silly. and tbe hot chocolate

[beemintty]

I've discovered that I don't like murder mysteries even if they are spooky and magical. They are too close to reality and I don't like murder....

[tremendum]

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Me and the Devil; iv

(not my gif)

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previous next series masterlist

word count: 9.5k i think

summary:  "We've always known what the Harkonnens are. And yet, they sent me, happily, to marry the devil. To become one."

warnings: canon-typical violence, blood, incorrect lore probably, brief allusion to blood kink (blink and you miss it), reader has some mommy issues and also some daddy issues, reader is also a bit of a diva buttttt thats ok shes grieving, height difference mention (Paul is taller than reader).

notes: back with chapter four! Thanks so much again you guys for all of the feedback, it's so so appreciated. I'm happy you're liking it!! this is very unedited. lmk what you think :)

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My Dear Niece,

I hope this message finds you in good health and spirits, despite the trying times you have endured. It has been far too long since we last spoke, and I have often found myself thinking of you and wondering how you are faring - but I am hopeful that Caladan will be more forgiving with message deliveries.

First and foremost, allow me to offer my condolences. I cannot begin to imagine the pain and sorrow you must have experienced in the wake of the tragedy that befell your family at the hands of those beasts. To have been thrust into the midst of such turmoil and danger, surrounded by those who brought about such devastation, must have been unimaginably difficult.

I write to you also with a sincere and heartfelt congratulations on your recent betrothal to Paul Atreides. While I understand that this union may have come as a surprise, I have every confidence that you will make a splendid bride and wife. Duke Leto is a noble and honorable man, and I have no doubt that his son is the very same. I know that he will cherish and protect you with all his heart.

Please know that you are not alone in your sorrow, my dear niece. Though distance may separate us, if ever you feel the need for comfort or companionship, know that our home is always open to you. You are welcome to visit whenever you please, and I would be honored to meet your new husband and welcome him into our family.

In the meantime, I hope this message finds you well and brings some small measure of comfort to your troubled heart. You are a strong and resilient woman, my dear, and I have every confidence that you will emerge from this darkness stronger than ever before.

With all my love and affection,

Lady Ginaz

- Message sent to Lady Bourbon from the Lady Ginaz. 10191. Caladan.

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For the second time in his life, Paul is roused by his mother in the dead of the night.

When she insists he follow her, she wears a similarly grave face to the first time - spooked, uneasy. He was not given the grace to even find shoes this time before she grasped his bicep, pulling him along to her own quarters and through a hallway lit only by the full moon outside; Too tired to protest and still yawning at the curling tendrils of slumber, he drags his bare feet along the stone floor. Still blinking sleep from his eyes, a sense of dread fills him when he crosses into the dimly lit chamber at the end of the hall; an ornate chair placed in the center, and on sitting atop it is the imposing figure of the Reverend Mother.

Paul's heart clenches; his eyes are alert immediately.

Their previous encounter; searing pain, the Gom Jabbar - a test of his humanity. He struggles to conceal the rage that simmers beneath the surface, a bitter reminder of what he'd endured - and for no reason.

He should never have told his mother about the dreams.

Already knowing, but needing the affirmation, he clenches his jaw. "What's this?" He turns to ask his mother, whose stare is icy and less fearful than it was those years before. She doesn't respond, only nudges him forward, towards the woman in the center of the room.

As the Reverend Mother's piercing gaze meets his own, Paul squares his shoulders, steeling himself for what is to come; He'll have to tread carefully, lest he betray the depth of his emotions - or the truth about his dreams.

The Reverend Mother speaks, her voice a low, commanding tone that fills the room. "Tell me of your dreams, Paul Atreides," her eyes bore into his own. Paul hesitates for a moment, glaring to his mother- Lady Jessica nods subtly, her expression urging him to speak the truth; Anger courses through him, but he knows there is no choice for him now.

Summoning his courage, Paul begins to recount the vivid images that have haunted his nights.

Leaving out the details he suspects are less...important, he instead focuses on the more foreboding parts; The eerie familiarity of the clearing, the ceremonial sheet spread like a shroud. Ash falling from the sky, the missile streaks in the sky and the burning of the large pine; a shiver runs down his spine - the visions feel like a portent of doom, and it brings him to a hushed quiet.

"I've tried to make sense of them," His voice comes out just as frustrated as he feels, "But they're elusive. Fragmented. She's always there."

It seems he doesn't have to elaborate on who he's talking about - the woman's eyes flash before him from under her thick veil. She says nothing, but a sharp glance from his mother makes him clear his throat, confessing the dream his mother had woke him from not minutes ago.

"And in the last dream," Paul's jaw tightens, the memory of the vision burning bright in his mind, "I saw someone... stabbing me," he confesses, his voice barely above a whisper. "A black-hilted knife, with an engraved blade."

The words hang heavy in the air, sending a ripple of unease through the chamber. Paul can feel the weight of the Reverend Mother's scrutiny, her eyes boring into his soul as if searching for the truth buried within. He's not sure if his mother is making the connection; you've brought that knife with you nearly everywhere since you got it back. To him, it's inevitable.

The Reverend Mother's expression is unreadable as she absorbs his words. Paul braces himself for her response, knowing that what he's revealed may have far-reaching consequences; He cannot afford to hide the visions that plague his mind—not if what you said about Sabberon is true. The Reverend Mother regards him with a penetrating stare. "Interesting," she murmurs. "Your dreams hold great significance, Paul Atreides."

Paul's frustration boils to the surface as he listens to the Reverend Mother's cryptic response; He knows what she is capable of, he knows how powerful the Bene Gesserit are in the galaxy - yet his resentment grows and boils within him. Resisting a snarl, he glares sharply, trying to quell the anger, confusion.

"Significance?" Paul retorts, his voice laced with bitterness. "I will not be a pawn in your schemes," he declares, his voice ringing with conviction. "I am the heir to House Atreides. I will not allow my fate to be dictated by prophecy or visions."

His words echo in the chamber; Lady Jessica places a sharp hand on his shoulder, her sharp inhale bristling the hair on Paul's neck.

"Silence."

Whatever words of anger he was about to say halt on his tongue. Prickles of anger wash over him when he comes out of the quick haze; she dares use the Voice on him, yet again.

Her voice is harsh when it comes, eyes sharp as tiny beads behind the black of her dressing. "You are the heir to a great legacy, but with that inheritance comes duty. Tread carefully, Paul Atreides. The choices you make will shape the fate of many." These words are extremely discomforting; Once again he is filled with the spoilt disdain of their fanatic manipulations.

The Reverend Mother continues, her gaze steady and unwavering. "You possess a strength within you, a strength born of both blood and spirit; but true strength lies not in the wielding of power, but in the mastery of oneself. Trust in your instincts, but do not let them blind you."

He refuses to speak.

His mother is fearful behind him; he can feel it radiating off of her, and it fills him with even more indignation. His eyes pierce through her veil, waiting for her to finish. "You may go." She dismisses, and he has no problem turning heel, walking briskly to the door.

"Not you, Jessica."

Jaw clenching at the tone of disrespect the woman uses towards his mother, he almost turns around; but somewhere in his mind is a hazy insistence from his mother- urging him to leave them. He does, lingering to listen to the hushed whispers behind the closed door for only a moment.

"-with the girl, too.You must ensure they go down the right path."

He doesn't bother to stay and hear the rest of it.

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The clashing of blades chimes in your ears with surprise when you arrive for training in the late morning.

It's more common than not to find Duncan sitting, cleaning blades or stretching when you arrive for lessons, but today, it seems he and Paul are thoroughly engrossed in sparring and don't notice when you enter.

They move with that dance-like rhythm you grew up learning; one then the other - legs lunging, arms parrying and striking. They circle each other with cautious precision; Paul's movements are fluid and graceful, calculated - his proficiency comes as somewhat of a shock to you. With such a lithe, deft body, you'd assumed him little match for someone like Duncan. Perhaps, in your own vain perception, you'd expected him to have been meagerly gifted in the art of fighting, having been so well-endowed in the areas of strategy, politics, governance. Of course, you sigh. He's grown up here on Caladan - a Duke's son, trained to become a fair and mighty ruler one day. You suppose you shouldn't be so surprised, he's trained for it all his whole life.

You're sourly impressed as Paul matches him blow for blow, cheeks dusted with pink, barely a glean of sweat across his furrowed brow. A strike against Duncan hits unblocked; The older man, in turn, lets out a huff of laughter - pride flickers in his eyes as he watches Paul strike again.

It turns your blood to acid as you lean against the doorframe; waiting is becoming quite a drag. Duncan, watching Paul as if he were his own son; anger bites at your heels, pushing down the resentment you harbor. He couldn't have done anything when you were sent to Giedi Prime; rationally, you understand that, but the bitterness lingers, a reminder of the betrayal you felt at being abandoned to your fate years ago. There was a time years ago where you would spar with him like this in the weapons arena on Sabberon during the Harvest season- leaves falling red and yellow from their branches, the smell of roast and cider rising into the air.

Duncan's blade presses to Paul's side in a sudden move. Grunting, Paul can't seem to parry, and the blade is moments away from penetrating the shield and breaking through; God forbid he hurts that precious porcelain skin, You think. Briefly, as you watch the shield flicker red, you wonder how dark Paul's blood would flow. Feyd-Rautha's blood was so dark it was nearly black - a crimson color when it smeared across his skin; a tangy, sharp metallic taste when he'd pressed his bloodied fingers to your lips. You blink your eyes hard, pressing away the urge with a furrowed brow.

Your patience is gone, but luckily, Duncan seems to notice you first.

A spare glance in your direction as you linger in the entryway and he's fumbling - Paul takes the moment to strike, knocking Duncan to the ground with his blade pressed against his throat. Your brows raise.

With a wipe of sweat from his brow, Duncan's eyes skirt to the clock and he huffs, "Sorry, we must've lost track of the time." He mutters, taking Paul's extended hand. Paul nods at you in greeting; you nod back just as terse, ignoring the shocked look on Duncan's face at your appearance.

"It's fine. I believe I'm early." You reason, turning to walk towards the mat, avoiding eye contact. You can feel Duncan's stare on you; since you refused the veil from Hestia this morning, each person has looked at you the same - surprise, intrigue. You have to resist a snarl.

Paul, whose eyes flick to you then towards the weapons table, seems to be the only person this morning who hasn't stared at you as if you'd grown another head - but you're not fooled by his capacity to regard you simply as yourself this morning. Yesterday, he promised to never disrespect you; you suppose in turn, you will never disrespect him. That much will be given. But respecting someone is not the same as enjoying someone's company, and a moment of camaraderie is just a moment of weakness; You know he doesn't want this as much as you don't, but you will have to use this marriage as leverage if you ever want to make sure the Harkonnens stay off of Sabberon. And that means building trust.

Paul looks at you from the corner of his eyes for a moment before beginning to disinfect the blade he'd been using; Reaching to hold it out for you to take, you decline the offer.

Instead, your hand finds the hilt of your own blade, "No, thank you. I prefer to use my own."

Paul's eyes catch and linger on the blade; He blinks those long lashes a few times, as if deep in thought, before nodding. "Of course." He says, voice quiet as he turns. Duncan watches with disinterest, sipping on a cup of water as Paul brushes past you, giving you a tight-lipped, emotionless smile.

It's not until he's gone that you turn your stare to Duncan Idaho.

"He fights like you," You observe, beginning to stretch; if it's instigative, let it be.

Duncan's brow raises, "That's a good thing." He retorts, running a finger over the blade Paul had set down. You roll your eyes, concealing it by unsheathing your blade to begin sharpening it.

You can feel his stare. you know Duncan - he's not going to come out and say it, given how you've received his presence since arriving on Caladan; Instead, you beat him to it, turning to meet his eyes. "Did you expect me to be bald under the veil?" You ask, lifting a brow, "I lived there long enough, didn't I?"

He holds his hands up defensively, "I didn't say anything." He's right; you're acting up. Acting out. Probably both. You send him a look, "You didn't have to." You feel a defensive streak kick in yourself, considering what you'd learned about your own heritage by Paul yesterday. You'd been embarrassed in front of him - not knowing your own House's marriage traditions, or even the correct mourning phases? You looked like a fool.

He shakes his head. "You just... you've gotten older. You look like your mother." A pain that you've been holding down surfaces, striking you in the small gap your wall had built around your heart; guilt of survival, anger at your mother and all she'd done, everything shatters. You glare, throwing your knife onto the table in front of you.

"Don't speak to me of any of them, Duncan Idaho." You snap, eyes burning with emotion. "I was never prepared to be the last Bourbon alive, but now there's nobody left to witness my traditions being broken but myself." You say coldly, "I'm done with the veils and the gowns; I'm barely a Bourbon at all anymore. I didn't even know there were traditions until my betrothed informed me of them." Your voice is venomous; You can tell Duncan is preparing himself for a fight of words and not blades as he walks towards you.

"You've always been a fighter, my lady," Duncan chooses, his tone filled with respect; you can't help but hear the voice of someone who is approaching a cornered hound. "But you don't have to face it all alone."

Astounded, you almost laugh. "Really?" You snap, "Then where were you?"

You knew it would boil over at some point; By the look on his face, he knew it too.

Hands shaking, you take a shaky breath, "I was there with them - with him - for four years. Four years." You say, heart thundering, "Not one single fucking check-in, no visit, nothing. Nobody batted an eye when my messages stopped delivering, when there was never a wedding?"

You're not finished; the floodgates open, you're at your own mercy to stop and you can't help but continue. "-They had to have known what kind of monsters they'd shipped me off to, right? We were allies with the Atreides for centuries; we've always known what the Harkonnens are."

You laugh mirthlessly, "And yet, they sent me, happily, to marry the devil. To become one." You're breathing hard, hands shaking - the room feels hot and you can't seem to catch your breath. "-And I know, Duncan. I know that your hands were tied." You sigh, pressing your hands to your cheeks to soothe the heat. Thankfully, no tears fall. "I don't blame you, really, but- you're the only person left to be angry towards." Your voice cracks as you look down, shame burning on your face.

Duncan's expression softens, his gaze filled with regret and remorse. "I'm sorry for everything you lost, my lady." he says, his voice heavy; You resist the urge to pull him into an embrace, to feel the warmth of someone else and feel safe for the first time in so long. Instead you stand, barren and alone, in the middle of the floor.

"I should have been there for you - they should have, too."

It strikes a bout of guilt in you to make him admit something so ugly when you know he is grieving their loss just as you are. "They should have done something to help you. It's okay to still be angry with them, what they did to you, even if you're mourning them."

His words cut through the haze of anger and pain and you're stuck with an exhaustion - one that comes from the years of neglect and abandonment. You look down at the ground; perhaps it won't hurt to have someone on your side, someone you trust. It's been a dangerous and lonely several years, and you're tired of always trying to watch your own back. Clearing your throat, you nod. "I'm sorry, Duncan." You utter, looking up at him squarely. "I shouldn't have treated you coldly. I haven't been taking this change well at all." You confess.

He gives you a look, shaking his head, "There is nothing for you to apologize for, Little Bourbon." At the shadow of a smile on your face, he grins; He's always known what will cheer you up - tossing you your blade from where it sat on the table, he squares himself. You catch it deftly, rolling your neck and squaring yourself, thankful for the end of such a vulnerable moment.

The sound of footsteps disrupts you. You crane your neck behind you; A soldier walks through the room, but instead of addressing Duncan after bowing to you, he speaks to you.

"My lady." He starts. You raise a brow in question. "The Lady Jessica wishes to speak with you over lunch in her quarters now, if you have a moment."

You grit your teeth, a shot of uncertainty flooding you. You've yet to dine with her on your own yet - something about her sets you on edge, and you'd really prefer to spar to take your mind off of everything.

But you know better than to refuse the lady of the house's wishes.

"And spoil my fun here?" You ask, voice dry. "Alright."

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Lunch is barely picked at before Lady Jessica brings it up.

When she speaks, your eyes meet hers - less stony than usual, she regards you with an interest in her eyes that you've yet to see before. "You were once on the path of the Bene Gesserit," Lady Jessica starts, her voice tinged with empathy; You try to hide the set of your jaw, looking away briefly.

"Circumstances may have led you away, but your training has not been forgotten." She adds. You suspected this would be one of the reasons she called you in. "Yes, my lady," You affirm, setting down your fork; you send her a tight-lipped smile. "I trained when I was younger."

She nods, "Have you considered continuing this path? Honing your skills once more—to strengthen your voice, your intuition, your presence."

You take the moment she gives you to consider it; of course, you've thought of it now and then. But you have, to put it lightly, a very conflicted past with the Sisterhood, one that you prefer not to relive; Your mother's stern visage, relentless training regimens appear in your mind. Countless hours in rigorous physical and mental exercises - pressure to conform to their strict teachings weighing too heavily upon you and all three of your sisters' shoulders.

There's a part of you that can't help the twinge of curiosity that sparks through you; The allure of such an ancient order, unlocking hidden potential, the possibility of power and mastery of certain skills. It sounds glamorous, but you know better- you saw what kind of mistrust it sewed in your own house; The crack between your father and his court on behalf of your mother and the sisterhood, the loss of thousands of years of tradition.

Your lips open, and they feel suddenly very chapped. "I'm... not sure, my lady." You say honestly, blinking down at the unappetizing food below you.

"I understand your hesitations," she continues, voice earnest, "but given the current circumstances, it may be wise to strengthen all of your skills, including those you learned with the Bene Gesserit. It's imperative to ere on the side of caution."

"Circumstances?" You parrot, tilting your head. You know what she's implying; it doesn't ease the suspicion that rises, the feeling that the strings which tie themselves to Lady Jessica's limbs and lips are being pulled from much higher above your head; high enough to have actual, galactic implications. It is keenly upsetting.

"Yes, my dear." She begins, taking a sip of water, back straight; she doesn't bother to elaborate for you, and a tinge of irritation courses through you. "Tell me," She says, stirring the tea in front of her, "Even after your time with the sisterhood, did you ever experience visions? Dreams that stayed with you long after you woke?"

Your throat dries so quick you almost cough. Cheeks heating up, your eyes lock with hers; so it was a look of importance at the strategy council yesterday. It seems Lady Jessica has been keeping close tabs on you, after all. You hope she cannot read your mind thoroughly, for she would likely not enjoy what your dreams entail.

"You seem to already know my answer." You say, voice chilly in the warm room. Lady Jessica's lips press together. "Indeed," she affirms; gentle, yet probing. "But I need to hear it from you."

You pause, grappling with the memories that surge forth at Lady Jessica's inquiry; The dreams, the visions—they haunt you, asleep or awake - and despite your reluctance to acknowledge them, they have persisted, lingering like a shadow upon your consciousness. Swallowing against the dryness of your throat, you gather your thoughts before speaking.

"Yes," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "I have."

Lady Jessica nods. "I suspected as much," she murmurs, her eyes reflecting a depth that is distinctly familiar. "These dreams may hold greater significance than you realize, dear. They may be the key to understanding the path that lies before you."

Her words hang in the air, pregnant with meaning and yet still exasperatingly cryptic; You are, in your silence, forced to acknowledge for the first times that these dreams - they are a calling, a beckoning towards something that you cannot ignore. You feel the soreness of your jaw and will your teeth to unclench.

Lady Jessica continues, murmuring your name firmly, "I urge you to consider resuming your training with the Bene Gesserit. Not out of obligation, but out of necessity. In times of uncertainty, it is essential to be prepared."

You meet Lady Jessica's gaze; despite your reservations, despite the ghosts of the past, you know that finding your studies again might be effective; the potential you will have with the skills and power of the Bene Gesserit are undeniable, but the pause you feel is very strong. There is something bizarre about the timing, about the whole interaction. To use raw power is to make yourself infinitely vulnerable to greater powers, you remember your mother saying years ago.

With a nod of affirmation, you square your shoulders. "I will consider it, my lady," you respond, meeting her gaze, "Thank you for your guidance."

Lady Jessica offers you a reassuring smile, one which does little to quell the raging in your stomach.

"You're stronger than you realize, my lady."

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It is past dark when Paul finally exits his mother's quarters.

Exhausted and overwhelmed, he lets his feet drag across the floor on his way back, thinking quite fondly of his bed and pillow, of the warmth of his sheets.

His stomach growls - his normally ravenous appetite has eluded him all day since this morning; The visit from the Reverend Mother earlier in the day had left him teetering on the edge. Admittedly, she is as commanding as she is disfavored by Paul; yet it was his mother's reaction that troubles him the most.

The last few hours, sparring on knife skills, were spent tense; He, upon entering the room, had asked nearly immediately what the Reverend Mother had told her when he was dismissed earlier in the morning, yet she remained silent and instructed him not to question it. Whispering, quiet and serious: He would find out in due time.

Lost in thought, Paul quickens his pace, his footsteps echoing down the dimly lit hallway; The weight of dual weapons training today has set his muscles to ache and groan with each step, mind not too far behind body - the sooner he is in bed, the better.

But as he rounds a corner, Paul nearly hits someone - you, in fact.

Blinking in shock, for a moment your eyes meet; nothing happens. You've stepped back slightly, seemingly just as startled as he - you're just perfectly positioned in the hall that the dim lights reflect on your clothes and you look warm, comfortable; So unlike yourself in the daylight.

"Apologies, my lady," Paul offers, his voice tight with tension as he inclines his head in a respectful nod, gaze flickering down the hall you both seemingly planned on walking down. Truthfully, he is not in the mood to speak to anyone, in particular you after the uneasy sight of your knife, hilt catching the reflection of the lights beside you.

You return the gesture, expression signaturely guarded as you mutter, "No harm done, my lord."

He clears his throat; Though your hair looks nice and your skin healthy, you look quite tired - he's not sure when he'll get used to seeing your face.

"I was just heading-" He gestures down the hall, and you nod stiffly, "So was I."

And so you fall into stride alongside him, watching the walls pass as you both take a slower pace than either of you would likely prefer. Perhaps, in an ordinary world, he would feel giddy to walk his prospective wife to her quarters after a long day; but this world is not ordinary, and he's still getting used to treating you as less as a threat and more of an ally.

A large window passes on his right, illuminating your figure in silvery light before hushing you back into the shadows again. He wonders what the moons are like on Sabberon.

He doesn't expect you to speak; in fact, he himself has no plans to. Yet after a few minutes your voice comes hesitantly and with the tranquility of a sleeping cat.

"I had lunch with your mother today."

Alarm bells sound in his head; He certainly did not expect that. When he turns to look at you, he finds you already staring up at him; perhaps you're gaging his reaction to this information - he doesn't try hard to hide his displeasure.

"What did she tell you?" He asks before he can stop himself.

You give him an inquisitive look, lifting a brow. "Why do you assume she had things to tell?" You rebut. His shoulders relax ever so slightly as he sighs, slowing his pace as you near his door.

He doesn't respond, yet something in his features must convince you to start again, to be less facetious in your words; You set your jaw as you look away and back to him.

"She wants me to take up Bene Gesserit training again." You say, eyes narrow as you gaze at him - cold, scrutinizing - perhaps to once again see his reaction. His nostrils flare; This must be what the Reverend Mother instructed his mother to do - to ensure you are going down the right paths. Why though, he is still unsure.

"She asked about your dreams, didn't she?" He asks; this time, it's Paul who watches your face for a reaction - and he gets one. Your eyes blink in shock as you nod stiffly. "Yes, she- how do you know this?" You ask, hand grabbing his elbow as you both slow to a stop.

There's a bout of silence, in which he debates nearly everything; muscles aching, he wishes to just go to sleep - but your eyes hold an alarm in them that makes him hesitate.

Opening his mouth to speak, Paul stares down at you; If what the Reverend Mother was saying is true, then you might truly be as dangerous as he'd thought. But he knows what their order is like - all in the way of maintaining power. A faint echo down the hall of someone makes his eyes snap away from your heavy stare; Perhaps the hallway is not an appropriate place for such a conversation. "We shouldn't be speaking of this here," He glances at you, "Would you come in?" He asks. He opens the door that leads to his quarters. You stare at him for a moment, as if surprised - but with a glance around, it seems you decide the coast is clear, and you slip in past where he holds to door ajar with his arm.

You walk less assured than usual in the unfamiliar territory; he knows you've been active in your time here in the castle, but this is certainly one part of the fort you have not yet seen. A guiding hand presses your back as he quickens his pace, hoping to get this over with swiftly as he leads you to his bed chamber; though your back tenses, you do not push him away.

You repose on the chair but Paul is restless, standing in front of your expectant gaze.

"Paul," You start, leaning forward; It's with a startle that he registers your use of his first name - a tone which provides no warmth but a hint of anxiety as you look up at him. "If we are to do this together, we need to build trust." You start, and he knows you're right. This - marriage, ruling Caladan, representing the House Atreides - and whatever else is to come.

"Just tell me. How concerned do I need to be?" You ask; this was not what he'd thought you would say, and it takes him a second to think of anything to respond with. The truth is a thousand pieces scattered through dust and sand, and he cannot stop slipping through it.

"I don't know." He says, candor dripping through his exasperation. "I was visited by the Reverend Mother this morning." He admits, relief finding his shoulders. If you are to be by his side in the upcoming months, you'll surely learn of all of this sooner or later; It's better to come from him than elsewhere.

Your face darkens slightly at the mention and you raise a brow.

"What did she want with you?" You ask.

"I've been having dreams." He admits to yet another person he'd rather not; "Dreams about... Sabberon. In them, I feel like..." He exhales, "I feel like I have to go there. I'm meant to." He finishes, not wishing to delve any further into what the dreams entail. You look completely shocked, though; ghostly, uneasy.

He has no answers and so instead he tells you most of what he knows; Your expression turns more grim as he continues, describing his interaction with the Reverend Mother that morning. Your eyes flick to his in shock when he mentions the previous meeting with her years prior.

"The Gom Jabbar?" You say suddenly, sitting up straighter. He nods, "Yes. It was a test-"

"-No, I know what it is. I also received it." you swallow, brows furrowing. "But I don't understand why she would give it to you."

A deep, pregnant pause in the room, where Paul debates what he's about to say. Knowledge is a weapon and a burden.

"My mother has trained me in the ways of the Bene Gesserit too."

Your face morphs for only a moment as you stare at him in disbelief. Schooling yourself, you're quieted by this revelation; Paul waits patiently for you to respond. You gather your thoughts within a few moments.

"She warned me," You say, eyes swimming through his; he feels scrutinized under your intense stare. "She said that continuing as Bene Gesserit is not out of obligation but necessity." You add, "That continuing is the key to understanding the path that lies before me. That dreams could have more meaning than we think."

His stomach drops that the phrasing. You must ensure they go down the right path. That manipulative crone; playing you, his mother, and him all as she wants for the benefit of her sisterhood. Fury boils within him, but he knows what you need is an explanation. "There's a prophecy that my mother mentioned to my father once. I was young, eavesdropping-" He shakes off the sly look you give him at this, his cheeks heating up, "- and I didn't hear all of it, but I heard parts."

He's not sure how else to piece it together than to just tell you everything he's thinking. "When the Reverend Mother administered the Gom Jabbar, she told my mother there would be two candidates for something. That I may be one of them. Today, she told me to trust my dreams, that they may be the key to unlocking something important. Which is... troubling."

The bitter laugh you let out surprises him, and he lowers himself to sit on the chaise longue beside yours. "Troubling." You mutter, shaking your head. It's the exact thing Lady Jessica implied with you.

"I'm not sure if it means anything," Your tone suggests otherwise, "but I have also been having dreams about Sabberon." You admit - his eyes snake to yours, hands clenched together; stomach dropping, dread fills him. He worried this, too; having the same dreams, however alike or different they may be, are foreboding.

"-On a mountain I do not recognize. My house has a sacred Pine, you know? It represents the Harvest. I dream that I'm there... with you." You let out a sigh, and Paul swears he hears it shake. "I haven't told anybody, not even your mother." Your eyes are sharp - fearful, he realizes.

For a beat, he feels less alone. Another soul, trapped in this web of visions and politics and power; He's sympathizing with you, a foreign and unexpected emotion. Paul is starting to nurse a sharp headache; closing his eyes, he exhales and nods, "You're there in my dreams, too." He admits.

The two of you sit, then; Paul, slumped with consternation and you, back rigid with stress.

A moment of silence in which Paul is overthinking and you likely are too.

"Do you trust her?" You ask; A foolish thing to ask one of one's mother - yet his hesitation shocks not just you, but himself as well.

He starts hesitantly. "I believe that she loves me and my father, and by extension, she cares for you." He is well-aware of the vagueness behind his words. He licks his lips, "I know that the sisterhood instructed her to have a daughter. But instead, for my father, she bore him a son. The Reverend Mother is still unhappy about it."

You stare, but you say nothing. Uneasy with the intensity of your attention, he plays with a spare thread poking from the chaise longue. "This morning, I overheard the Reverend Mother telling my mother to ensure we are on the right path. Both of us."

You, sharp as ever, nod thoughtfully, "Which is why she decided so abruptly to offer for me to train again."

He nods in affirmation, biting his lip; a bad stress habit, one he got from his father. Your voice is almost dreamy as it comes out, his eyes staring off at the small bull figurine that sits on his table. You ask, "How do we know which path is the right one?"

He laughs bitterly, shaking his head as he stares ahead. He has no clue. "I wish I had an answer," he admits, his voice tinged with frustration. "All we can do is trust our instincts, but even then, there are no guarantees. Not if we don't believe them."

You nod in understanding, a solemn but signature expression painting your features. "It's a heavy burden to bear," you remark softly, your voice echoing his sentiments; Heavy, yes. But you seem used to burdens. "All things are known because we want to believe in them." You say. He perks up, looking at you; That's something his mother has said during skills training training before - but in your voice, now, next to him - it sounds much different.

Weary and exhausted, Paul sighs. "Perhaps if I'd had a sister, this wouldn't be happening."

You snort softly from your nose, a gentle exhale that is becoming quite familiar to his ears. "I had three. They were a handful." You say, hugging yourself.

He hums. For a moment, he can almost picture it; You, ten years smaller, just a young teen - fighting in a snow field with three sisters, a little boy chasing after you. He almost hears your screams when your younger sister jumps into a half-frozen lake, the water green as emeralds against the white fields and evergreens in the distance. The laughter that leaves you as you plunge, dress and all, into the icy depths besides her and pull your sisters with you; Handmaids wearing furs and soldiers boasting roaring wolf armor run to fish you out. They almost feel real. "What was it like, growing up with siblings?" he asks, seeking to reciprocate the gesture of openness that you've surrendered in the dark.

Your demeanor shifts slightly, your guard momentarily lowering as you reflect on your upbringing. "It was...complicated," your voice is contemplative, small. "We were close in some ways, but distant in others. There was always a sense of competition between us even when we were young, especially between me and my sisters. My mother was Bene Gesserit and was very strict."

He's studied so much about Sabberon, learned about your House's old customs and traditions - but yet, he realizes how little he truly knows about you; A pang of guilt washes over him for his previous assumptions and judgments.

Your boots look foreign against the rug on his bed chamber floor as you drag the tip of one. "They were like having built-in friends." You acquiesce, "They made me laugh all the time."

It's hard for Paul to picture you joking or laughing at all. "I don't have siblings," He states - obviously - "but I've always wanted to be a brother."

He knows the bittersweet territory he's crossed, and does not wish to upset you or remind you of all you have lost. But instead, you just send him a kind smile; one that's almost shy. "You'd be a good one." Your eyes are nostalgic and sincere; he has to look away.

Clearing his throat, he notices your hands as they sit in your lap. "It looks better," He says, nodding to your hand, where the sting had been reduced to a mere blemish. You smile, a sheepish thing, but it still brightens Paul's dark room. "I thought you'd been tricking me." You admit, face flushed as he lifts a brow, "Trying to make me look foolish."

He hums at this, tilting his head. "I assumed you'd thought I was trying to poison you." He admits, smiling just as sheepishly. Speaking with you feels surprisingly relieving - perhaps he is more tired than he thought.

"The possibility did cross my mind." Your voice, keenly serious, makes him chuckle slightly. He shakes his head, "I wouldn't have tricked you. I know how bad those crabs sting." He recalls one day lathering the chewed root onto his toe, fighting tears as his father watched with an amused sternness. If you disrespect them, he'd said, they'll disrespect you.

"I was considering amputating my hand before you showed up." Another attempt at a joke, from you? You're opening up; despite himself, he grins. Your eyes are deep - under the dim lighting, they shine in a way he hadn't expected; staring, he loses his track of thought. You seem to have as well, clearing your throat awkwardly.

"Is this your book?" You ask suddenly, rising to pad over towards his bedside, tilting your head to run your spine over the book that sits, embarrassingly, on his bedside table. The Noble Lineage: Exploring the Customs and Cultures of the Houses Major of Landsraad: House Bourbon. He nods, "If you'd like to read it, help yourself."

Craning your neck back you look at him, lifting a brow, "Is it interesting?"

For a second, he stares, unsure what to say - it dawns on him that you're teasing, and he cracks a small smile. Odd as it is to see a woman who was a mere shell open up, he's glad to have the priviledge of your trust, no matter how small or weak it may be.

"Haven't decided yet." He retorts, the feeling foreign.

"Maybe I will borrow it, then." You muse, "Perhaps it'll finally be the thing to lull me to sleep."

He stands to meet you; three steps over and he stands before you, taking in - not for the first time - your height and how your neck moves to look into his eyes. "You should get some rest if you can tonight." He agrees, "We've got to be at the Strategy Council tomorrow morning."

You nod, clearing your throat, "Oh- Yes, apologies." You sigh, "It's been a long day."

He hadn't meant to insinuate you should leave, but as he escorts you to the main hall, his eyes are drooping. Mercifully, though he tries to, you insist he need not walk you to your room.

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Alone back in his room, he stares at the book; Despite the barriers that still exist between he and you, there's a shared humanity that binds you together— funny enough that fear and reluctance is the thing that has made him realize such an obvious sentiment. He falls asleep and dreams within minutes.

You return to your chambers, the warmth of the last few minutes wearing off of you slower than molasses.

Alone, you are left with haunting thoughts; What do the Bene Gesserit have in store for you if you do choose to continue? Looming further is the prospect of galactic war should the Harkonnens leverage their petroleum reserves. The implications of you and Paul's shared visions; despite yourself, your cheeks flush with heat - how similar are these dreams of yours...?

And Paul - his eyes are very green.

He keeps his room neater than you'd thought - and with a bit of shock you'd seen all of the books on planets, flora and fauna, biology, culture. You secretly wished you could have observed them all closer - there were ones you've never heard of, and even one that had struck you right in the chest - Giedi Prime. Their culture was horror, after all.

You shake off the warm feeling of conversation - though the subject had left you on edge, it was terribly reassuring to have someone who not only you could speak freely with about your dreams and the Bene Gesserit, but who seems to hold similar opinions as you. Emotional whiplash has given you a staunch headache - you still believe that respecting someone is not the same as enjoying someone's company... but perhaps it doesn't always have to be mutually exclusive.

You sigh, rubbing your eyes; you can't get the smell of his bedroom off your clothes. You change into your robe. Before drifting to sleep, you catch sight of your bureau, the daunting metal that stares at you gleaming from across the room.

Yawning, you pad over to it.

The message remains on your desk, where it's been since being delivered a few days ago. You'd read it already, yes - read, cried, raged, and accepted it. Now, you suppose, it is time to respond. And in due time, it's finished.

My Dearest Aunt Ginaz,

Your letter arrived at a very uncertain time for me and for that, I am profoundly grateful. I apologize for the delayed response, it has been quite an adjustment for me after leaving Giedi Prime; Before that, as you've suspected, my keepers preferred I did not receive or send messages. There wasn't a day that passed where I didn't wish to read them.

For my betrothal to Paul Atreides, your kind words of congratulations reassure me; Truthfully, the prospect of marrying into such a noble family is daunting, yet they have been quick to assure I have felt welcomed. It is a sharp change from my previous engagement.

The loss of my family continues to weigh heavily upon my heart, and there are days when the pain feels unbearable. Yet, every day I am learning to live again. I can walk to the sea - the sea, which I have never before seen in my life. I spend my days educating, training with Swordmaster and your old friend Duncan Idaho, and have begun to sit in on the Duke's Strategy Councils. I believe I will live well here.

The final arraignment at the referendum is nearing, and I wonder if you will be attending alongside Lord Ginaz - Even if you are not able to attend, I will face the challenges that lie ahead knowing I have you on my side.

Your offer of sanctuary is a gift beyond measure, and I cannot express how much it means to me. I long for the day when we can be reunited and I might hear more of your life. In the meantime, know that I am safe and well, and that I carry your love and affection with me always.

With all my gratitude,

Your loving Niece

You almost feel guilty for the lies you've woven through your message - though not explicit, they are little and white and still deceiving. Your mother's bastarded sister, who succeeded your mother's parents when they died, inherited the noble last name as one of her father's dying wishes. They'd had several daughters - all married off to other houses, like your mother - and she had been left to learn to run the Swordmaster School. She now rules over their house with her husband, who took the name Ginaz when they wed.

You smirk, thinking of this: Paul Bourbon - it has a poor ring to it, you decide, wiping away the thought before it can blossom. You blink deliriously, knowing you are in acute need of sleep, and sigh.

You'll have Hestia send the message out in the morning; for now, all you can do is try not to dream as you curl up on your bed, eyes heavy with the weight of the day.

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You know you're dreaming this time.

The clouds are too fluffy, sounds muted as if you'd stuffed cotton into your ear canals. The hands that are on you are Paul's, you know this. But you're not embracing, no - there is no pleasure; his hands are slippery against your flesh and you're gasping in pain, gasping for breath. You are bleeding.

Or, is that his blood?

You squint, trying to find the ground, but all you see is the hilt of your nameday blade glinting in the sun, blood dripping from the tip. Who wields it? You let out a short groan, filled with pain - Paul leans against you, his weight heavy. The air is heavy with snow - no, not snow, ash. Ash that rains from the sky in flurries, fighter ships booming above your heads.

Another flash of your knife, this time in a hand. Gasping,Your hand comes away from your own abdomen, tainted black - black as the sun you once lived under.

"Hello?" A fuzzy voice, laced with pain, but you could pick it out of millions. You look into his eyes and see green; hands cup your cheeks, staining handprints over your trembling skin. An explosion somewhere in the distance -

"Paul." You breathe, fear lacing every fiber of you. You're dreaming, you're dreaming. You can't breathe.

But then, Paul's face changes - a sickening recognition flickers over his features when you speak, and something shifts. There is something wrong; He says your name as if he's surprised to see you, as if... as if you were in the wrong dream.

He looks down, as if expecting to see something between the two of you. But with his head tilted down, you squint, just barely making out the glint of another figure; glowing skin, sickeningly pale. A black smile.

There is someone behind Paul, and he is holding your knife.

It has the blood of your husband on it.

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follow @tremendumnotifs for updates.

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[earth4angels]

so i want to talk about some few things that hurt my feelings a lot and i can be over dramatic or what not. but this is my blog and i want to be able to log in and feel good. this is a long post im sorry.

; when i made this blog i made it with an intention to just be a regular fan blog, i didn’t want to write, ive been a writer when i was in high school and i loved it and i loved making stories about edward cullen bc he was my first character to write about. but anyways i began writing again bc i wanted to get back in it again — i wrote about jacaerys in secret until i grew guts to publicly post.

now with that out the way, my writing won’t be for everyone and i accept that, that’s the life of a writer. however, to tell me and flood my box with “i thought you were different,” “you’re changing” i’m a girl who simply loves writing silly imaginative stories on my free time and i don’t get paid for it. i work full time, have a gallery im preparing for and with one or two hours i have of free time i get to writing. please stop flooding my box with mean msgs of “you lie, you take too much time. stop saying you’ll post and then don’t” guys i have a life, and stuff happens, i do this MYSELF. i edit, i come up with inspiration, i decorate my borders, dividers to match the vibe of the story, i beta read, i write — this is all me. i’m sorry i take forever to upload, i only want to provide the best stories and show my good writing skills.

the group chat, the anons: the group chat i made it FOR A SAFE SPACE. everyone on there is my moot and i add people who asked me to join kindly, and yes majority of us are writers but some aren’t, and frankly speaking— we became a friend group, with now 20 members, i can run to them and gossip and they do the same. whoever the anon is spreading negativity on my box or my moots i do not know who it is, i simply said i knew who it was to SPOOK them, to call them out their shit. please stop asking whose in it or if i know whose anon etc.. if you want to join just ask — i have to know you however.

in box terms, i’ve turned it off again.

what is it with you guys harassing me? calling me a rapist apologist? what the fuck? calling me a bitch too? where and why is the reason? if you want to say something to me and if i’ve done something wrong MSG ME. say your shit to me off anon. i’m so sick of the negativity.. this is my blog, and i won’t allow you guys to offend me or talk bad about my moots.

i am not leaving writing bc i want to post all my stuff i have planned, god there’s so many things i want to share with you all. jacaerys vanilla smut, to love, cosmic dancer, benji.. cregan who ive been secretly writing about… there’s so much i want to show you but how do i post and be happy coming on here when all i get is “i feel disappointed in you, im unfollowing, i thought you were different?”

treat others with kindness, i don’t know when ill be back on again but, i hope you guys have a beautiful day.

xxx nattie.

[thewandererh]

🩺✨TW // medical concepts (tubes, ivs, veins), noose mention (cj storm and a spring lyrics)

(personally icky and squeamish on the medical concepts myself due to my health history, but im trying to conquer my fear by drawing them!! baby’s first IV drawing <33)

@calamarispiderart @calamarispider

I drew some fanart of calamarispiderart’s very cool hms guys in my sketchbook 👀. ive been dubbing them the ‘crazy concept calamari crew’ or something of the like. been having a hyperfixation ever since i found their tumblr last week :]. so earhm,, hope you enjoy!!!

.-.

‘’ spoiler image!! this is what stuff will be centered around ,,

.-.

ok art time

slowly listening to the full cccc album my myself :]. im very much in the fandom, just might not get all the references. mind is my favorite guy (everyone else is awesome too) so that might reflect here haha. calamari’s mind neck was so interesting to draw, i had the idea it can retract-ish and hide away in his weird fluffy coat. they all look so cool 😭😭

oH and a little extra whiteboardfox doodle wouldn’t hurt anyone. i wondered why the tubes on his neck were there, and came to the conclusion maybe theyre to substitute bloodflow because his neck is broken and blocked :0!

kind of funny because i first discovered calamari’s art amidst the aftermath of some twilight sedation i had (related to my ✨gut issues✨). discovered both calamari’s (i think) and spook on twitter’s (definitely) art after that whole procedure when i was home and watching turning red, love that movie,,, makes me cry. kinda funny i’m returning to calamari and spook’s arties at the same time after discovering them both at also the same time a while ago. was it october? wow.

anyways uhm…sending virtual hugs calamari!! i know this crew might be a bit old-ish (i had to scroll to find them) but i hope you enjoy it. time to do laundry ok bye

[whatsupwalnut]

Painland Week Day 2: Myths/Legends

@ deathsankh: lmao does Edwin Payne rly think i cant see him 😂

@ deathsankh: poor kid’s been in hell for 73 years and he comes right back to school? NERD

@ deathsankh: omg he made a friend, i love this for him

@ deathsankh: his lil friend is cute but imma let them cook 🙏

@ deathsankh: bumped into the boys again today, they brought me an offering

@ deathsankh: little girl didnt know she was dead, poor thing

@ deathsankh: i can’t share deets (thanks hipaa) but she died in her apartment and she’s been stuck there for decades

@ deathsankh: they played a game with her and suddenly her soul is calling to me??? okay boys, go offff

@ deathsankh: they thought i couldnt see them BEHIND A DESK lmaooooo 

@ deathsankh: these new kids crack me up

@ deathsankh: the dead boys are still in that apartment, they can’t hide for shit

@ deathsankh: 🏅 congrats to the worst to ever do it 🏅

@ deathsankh: they sent me two more souls in the past month and they’re still scared of me

@deathsankh: we’re colleagues now darlings, have fun out there 💅

@ deathsankh: stop, the little dead boys

@ deathsankh: im obsessed

@ deathsankh: they started a “detective agency” and ive gotten like 16 tributes from them so far

@ deathsankh: and get this

@ deathsankh: they’re calling it

@ deathsankh: THE DEAD BOYS DETECTIVE AGENCY 😂😂

@ deathsankh: like that’s not gunna attract attention from the afterlife

@ deathsankh: i put my contacts on notice, hands off unless they go thru me

@ deathsankh: the night nurse could be a problem but who’s gunna say no to me 💅

@ deathsankh: these boys are lucky i like they, they literally freed a ghost IN THEIR OFFICE tonight

@ deathsankh: like im not gunna sense them hiding on the windowsill 🙄

@ deathsankh: i should have said BOO right before i took Wilfred 😂 but u know im too profesh

@ deathsankh: i guess the dead boy detectives got spooked bc now they’re in port townsend??? 

@ deathsankh: BITCH IM EVERYWHERE 😂😂

@ deathsankh: i gotta call my girl Lilith, she was out there last time we spoke and it’s been too long

@ deathsankh: their little friend kinda reminds me of her

@ deathsankh: these boys stay getting themselves into situations ong

@ deathsankh: i cant talk specifics but that dad was a piece of work

@ deathsankh: im only sorry i couldnt get to him myself.

@ deathsankh: Lilith is Not Doing Well, please reach out if you have her info 🙏

@ deathsankh: shit is POPPING OFF in port townsend

@ deathsankh: why cant these kids take a proper holiday

@ deathsankh: night nurse is ON MY ASS like i don’t already know about this

@ deathsankh: she takes this shit too seriously lmao

@ deathsankh: YO

@ deathsankh: HELL????

@ deathsankh: HITTING UP MY CONTACTS ASAP @DESPAIR KEEP AN EYE OUT FOR A SAD NERDY KID IN UNDERWEAR YOU’LL KNOW THE ONE

@ deathsankh: oh shit what up @simonpages 

@ deathsankh: Thank you to everyone who reached out to Lilith, including the dead boy’s little friend! She’s doing much better now and hell has a new resident :) 

@ deathsankh: NOT LILITH lmao my bad 😂

@ deathsankh: the boys are out of hell but everyone is still sad??? they said their neighbor died but i didnt hear anything? mods????????????????????????????????????

@ deathsankh: this one is out of my jurisdiction gl out there boys 🫡

@ deathsankh: whole squad is back in London

@ deathsankh: the medium’s parents are annoying i need to give them a buzz…

@ deathsankh: NOT LIKE THAT u know i can’t take ppl before their time, but like…

@ deathsankh: they need a lil reminder that im coming :) 

@ deathsankh: i gotta take the night nurse out for drinks bc she is STRUGGLING @ThePrincipal u crazy for this one queen 😂😂 girls night soon?

@ deathsankh: fr tho does nn think i look at all that paperwork bc LMAO

@ deathsankh: the tweedy one loves it tho have fun king

@ deathsankh: like im not gunna approve the asylum paperwork sksksksks

@ deathsankh: omg they got the news and the whole squad is crying in the club 

@ deathsankh: even the night nurse lmao im never letting her live this down

@ deathsankh: maybe i shouldnt have delivered the news personally, i think i almost killed the boys again 😬 my bad yall

@ deathsankh: was anyone surprised the curly one kissed the tweedy one when i told them 😂

@ deathsankh: took them long enough tbh 😻

[moonlightspencie]

rewatched the update video, read some posts from both people who like and dislike the update, and just finished charlie’s (mo1stcr1tikal) video about watcher. here are my complete thoughts:

Video Execution

i appreciate that they seem to have consulted with a PR person, or at the very least really sat down and thought through their approach with the video.

they didn’t try to boo-hoo themselves.

they used a lot of positive “you language” for the fans (which i very much appreciate as a media and communication person myself)

they took accountability for their mistakes, and actually uttered the word “sorry”. low bar, i know, but many apology videos still somehow slip under the bar.

they very clearly put the focus on ryan and shane in the video. it sucks a bit that they probably felt they had to since much of that was probably due to the negative comments directed at steven, but it WAS a smart move. fans feel most betrayed by the two the majority connect with the most.

it. wasn’t. overproduced. (again, low bar, but it is what it is).

overall thoughts on execution? it was smart. they look uncomfortable, and whether that’s intentional or their true feelings, regardless of why they look so uncomfy, it makes it easier to watch. they don’t look pissed or smug. they look embarrassed. which, in an apology video, is a good thing. sorry to say

The Solution

i think they came up with the best alternative they could after royally fucking up with the majority of their fans.

the patreon solution… mixed feelings. i understand they don’t want to just go forward with one or the other: the patreon or the streamer. however, as ive seen some patrons say, it doesn’t make all that much sense to have both logistically. i think it’s only set up this way because they can’t go back entirely on watcher.tv now. good on them for giving a bit of a fix with the codes being sent to patrons.

i was still lost on how they weren’t “advertiser friendly”, and that’s where charlie’s video came in to affirm my suspicions. go watch his video for more information, but long story short: watcher is a GOLD MINE for advertisers. huge and loyal audience, engaging ads that make the viewer want to watch the ad, and an ever-growing channel.

on the back of the last point: how on earth were they struggling with money to begin with? it simply doesn’t make any sense. they had so many revenue streams & again, DO get sponsors and appear to be incredibly brand-friendly.

trust is still lost with most fans, and that will be hard as hell to regain. the ex-buzzfeed three-guys-on-a-couch model didn’t even work when the try guys were fucked over by their friend and brand trust was lost a little bit. and this loss of brand trust is fully on all three dudes on the couch this time

overall thoughts on the solution? it’s good for what they can do now that they obviously cannot just fully backtrack. that would arguably be a worse idea than the original idea for the streaming service itself. i think this would have worked much better and they would have retained integrity if they had done this from the beginning, and/or had a slow rollout instead of jumpscaring us like that. ghost files is supposed to spook us, not surprise paywalls.

Final Thoughts

a ton of trust was lost. the parasocial relationship that specifically shane and ryan fans had with them, that was the REASON for so much of the loyalty, is fractured, and for many it will never be the same as it was. i understand their fuck up when it came to the announcement was likely just them needing more self-awareness and a professional to guide them through it, but i still question how it got to that point where they felt like their fans would enjoy this to begin with. not to mention, again, how were they not making enough? why not try other options first?

i hope sincerely that watcher truly learns from this. that they remember their business isn’t about money or ambition (in a positive or negative way), but is built on the backs of their fans’ loyalty. without that fan loyalty, buzzfeed unsolved would have been the only thing we knew ryan and shane for. we wouldn’t have followed them to a new channel if we didn’t care about them and their work to certain degree.

it was a good apology video. genuinely. i’m glad they didn’t jump into it with a bandaid solution. i just wish they had the foresight to know their fans well enough to understand that there is NO way this would be well received by the majority. and there’s no going back on that now, obviously. what’s past is past. i hope moving forward that they gain a little self-awareness and that they gain some FAN-awareness. until/unless they start working on television and movies, they have to keep their fans happy. we are the consumer, not the employee, and it feels like they started somehow blurring those lines with the original video they posted. it felt like one of the corporate ‘training’ videos for my job when we start using a new system.

fans are important in online spaces, particularly. we provide free advertising for our favorite bloggers/youtubers/etc., and willingly give up money to support them through various streams (in watcher’s case: patreon, merch, live shows). you cannot exist as a creator online and think that you don’t need to keep your fans happy when it is your source of income. it’s simply how being a successful internet personality works, for better or worse.

good job to the watcher boys on how they went about the apology/fix. i hope things go better from here on out.

[suneeater]

solomon + general romantic hcs

✎a/n: im actually so obsessed w solomon i had to cut myself off writing these bc they became noticeably longer than the ones ive done for everyone else so far

✰warnings: slightly suggestive themes, minors DNI!

Solomon is the world’s biggest tease. He’s also incredibly observant and too smart for his own good, which means he knows your every weakness and loves to use them against you. It’s just so fun for him to see you get so pouty and beg him to quit, and he can’t help but make up arbitrary rules for his own satisfaction, such as swearing up and down the only way he will stop is with a kiss

He never gives you what you want right away; he’s always drawing things out for longer than they need to be, withholding touch or affection and offering only tiny little slivers in the meanwhile only to bask in how much you beg for him, upset he won’t give himself to you. He’s such a sadist, honestly

Teasing aside, Solomon is one hell of a reliable man. He has his mysterious ways which, as close as you become with him will always remain, and somehow always knows when you need him the most. He’s always managing to turn up at the second that he’s needed most knowing just what to do, thanks to his quick thinking. Even if he has prior commitments or has his hands full, you can always expect him to take some weight off your shoulders

As your only other fellow human in the devildom, Solomon worries about you a lot. You’re a quick learner and have more than enough pacts with some powerful demons to keep you safe, but he can’t help but think about your safety every moment he isn’t with you. Expect lots of gifts from him in the form of protective charms and items

Solomon is slightly similar to Lucifer in the role that he takes in your relationship; while he’ll always bend over backwards for you, he leans toward the assertive side. The way he sees it, it’s his job to keep you safe, and being around as long as he has he’s much more experienced than you, not to mention a powerful sorcerer. He’ll tell you what to do, but in the form of advice and genuine worry, while leading you by a firm but loving hold on your waist

Dates back in the human world are a must; catching Solomon up on current events and the past few decades is something the two of you enjoy thoroughly. There’s always something new to share, but it’s familiar enough that you still bond over your shared human experience. Back in the human world, you run about excitedly, pointing out all of your favorite things and rambling on about all that he’s missed, and while he doesn’t exactly retain every detail he’ll always the way you smiled so happily

When Solomon kisses you he takes his time. He’s a bit of a romantic, his surprisingly soft hand supporting your chin with tender care, keeping you close to him and guiding you just where he needs you, his other secured around your neck. There’s hardly any distance between you, and you have even less time to breathe before diving back in. Kissing Solomon is overwhelming in every sense of the word, all of your senses tingling with excitement and the desire for more. You can never be close enough to him to be fully satisfied and it’s frustrating, but it brings a spark to your relationship

He probably has really cold hands. Like, REALLY cold hands. He’s always using them to spook or startle you, sneaking up from behind and clasping his ice cold palms against your cheeks and watching you squeal. He has cold feet, too, and you have to beg him to wear socks after he touches you with them in the dead of night and it stirs you awake

If anyone wants you to wear their clothes, it’s Solomon. I mean, out of everyone he probably has the most normal wardrobe anyways! He’ll even buy some more average human clothes just to see you wear them, never deliberately asking but always trying to tempt you by dousing them in his scent and leaving them out in the open. He feels almost prideful when you’re lounging about in his t-shirts, eager for people to see you clad in his attire and know you’re his

You’re probably the only person that can convince him he is not the gourmet chef that he thinks he is, and that’s simply because he feels so warm and fuzzy inside when you spend late nights in the kitchen together, teaching him to cook your favorite dishes

Often, these late night cooking lessons end up being dance lessons. He takes his hands in yours and smiles softly for you, asking you without words for a dance to the distant song from your playlist. Solomon has two left feet though, and is constantly stepping on your toes and losing his balance. It’s one of the only times that you see the experienced sorcerer lose his composure, and surely a core memory of your relationship

find the same scenario for:

beelzebub | lucifer | mammon | simeon 

[aquareegia]

Noah

So some of you showed an interest in my Sleep Token OC Noah, so here is a little piece I wrote about them.

As always a disclaimer, that I'm not a particularly good writer and English is not my native language. If you choose to read, I hope you enjoy a glimpse into Noah's story.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆☾

A tall silhouette, their face covered by a big black hood, was sitting on the windowsill looking up at the night sky, listening to the quiet strumming of a bass and the tuning sounds of a guitar.

"It still sounds off." They said in a monotone voice.

"I know!" The guitarist said with mild annoyance in his voice. He'd been trying to tune the sound for a while but somehow the guitar didn't want to cooperate tonight.

"He's messing with you!" The bassist said pointing up at the windowsill. But he wasn't pointing at the black hooded silhouette but at a small black silhouette sitting next to them. A black void in the vague shape of a cat, six yellow eyes glistening in amusement.

"Sleep you...!" IV said but bit his tongue before he could utter an insult. Insulting an ancient deity, that he owed all that he had, was certainly a bad idea.

The cat laughed a throaty laugh that could only be described as otherworldly. He jumped on the lap of the black figure and closed his eyes, while a pale hand started to stroke his fur.

Sleep wasn't a cat. None of them really knew what he actually looked like. While he was around them, he liked to take on the forms of animals, a black cat seemed to be his favourite. No matter how much he messed with them, they couldn't really be mad at a little fluffball after all.

The hooded figure smiled in amusement. An invisible smile, since nobody could see it. Even when their face wasn't covered by a big hood and a mask covering their mouth, nobody could see it. They made sure to never show emotion on their face. Emotions were a burden and Noah didn’t want to be a burden.

"Hey Noah!" III said, putting away his bass. The hooded figure tilted their head looking down at the bassist. Noah was their name, their new one at least. They didn't remember their old name. It was part of their deal with Sleep but they didn't care. A name didn't mean much to them.

"I've been meaning to ask for a while... how did you become one of us?" III said.

IV put his guitar down. "I've been wondering the same actually. You're one of us but... we don't really know anything about you."

One of us, they said. A vessel for this deity they called Sleep. The very same curled into a ball on their lap, pretending to be asleep.

Whoever followed Sleep and spread his message, was promised glory but Noah didn't want that. They were different from the other vessels in this aspect, all Noah wanted was peace and to belong. Belong somewhere.

Noah looked at the cat. Did they belong here? They still weren't sure.

"I... it's not exactly a happy story." Noah said quietly.

III and IV looked at each other and then nodded up at Noah, to signal they were willing to listen.

Noah slid back their hood, exposing their ghostly white expressionless face, with the dark circles under their pale blue-green eyes, which indicated some sleepless nights. Their long wavy white hair ruffled from the friction of the fabric.

They glanced around the room, with III & IV looking expectedly at them, and the drummer II curled up in a corner of the room soundly asleep. After they made sure there weren’t more ears listening in, they started talking.

"Before I was Noah, I was... lost. I guess, I've been lost all my life really. No purpose, no ambition, nowhere to belong. I tried..." they said, their monotone voice quivered slightly. "I tried to fit in. I tried to give myself purpose but in the end, I gave up. I've found myself at the edge of an abandoned building. It was raining, thunder was roaring. I remember it spooked me so much, I almost slipped over the edge... This is what I wanted anyways but in that moment I was scared. I was prepared to die but... at the same time... I was scared to die. Isn't that funny?" Noah chuckled, forgetting to maintain their expressionless face.

III and IV’s eyes widened and they shared a concerned glance. They didn't seem to think it was funny.

"Well... I was cowering before the edge. I was soaked, I was cold, I was scared, I was screaming but all I heard was the thunder and the splashing of raindrops around me." Noah looked up at the sky. There was no rain. It was a clear starry night, the moon shining brightly down on them.

"As I was cowering there, I heard a voice. It was strange, I couldn't even hear my own screams but I could hear him crystal clear. Such a beautiful voice. He just stood there, holding an umbrella over my shivering body. I thought, what's an umbrella gonna do now, I was already soaked to the bones." They laughed in genuine amusement.

"I sat up and looked at him. He was just as soaked. His hood was stuck to his head, the rain washed away most of his body paint and his white mask looked like it was crying. It was such a bizarre sight."

IV chuckled at the thought of a completely soaked Vessel.

"I bet he looked like a sad wet cat!" III said and they all heard a snort from the corner where II was sleeping. Caught eavesdropping, the drummer sat up and the four of them shared a small laugh, before Noah continued.

"He offered me his hand and for some reason I took it. He dragged me into the building and we sat there in silence for I don't even know how long, until I heard him speaking." Noah pointed at the cat on their lap, still pretending to be asleep but Noah could see his ears twitching, listening to everything.

"He was speaking through Vessel and offered me what I desired the most and... I accepted. Giving away my name and identity seemed like a little price to pay. Not having to be myself, actually seemed like a welcome bonus to me."

"If you gave away your name, how come you’re called Noah now?" II asked.

Noah shrugged. "No idea. Vessel gave me that name… I don’t really know why."

"What did you desire most?" IV asked.

"I..." Noah said, immediately getting interrupted by squeaking hinges of a door being opened.

Vessel stood in the doorframe, looking around. "Did anyone see... Oh! Did I interrupt something?" He said, taking in the scenery.

"Noah is telling us how they became a vessel." III said.

They couldn't see it but Noah sensed that he furrowed his forehead. He pursed his lips, seeming to remember.

"You don't need to share." He said to Noah.

They shook their head. "It's ok." Vessel didn't seem to believe, it was ok. He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe.

"So... what I desired... I wanted peace and a place to belong. Now I'm at peace when I listen to Vessel... to all of you really." Noah felt a bit bashful to admit. They tried so hard to come off as reserved and independent but they loved to be surrounded by the other vessels and their beautiful melodies. Noahs facade started to crumble the more they talked. They were afraid of being a burden and to lose this peaceful existence.

Noah took a quick glance at Vessel, his face seemed to soften behind the mask.

They continued "I'm not sure if I belong here but... it feels the closest to home I've ever felt. I guess Sleep somehow has the ability to bring good people together." Noah saw how the cat smiled. Sleep might be a trickster and selfish, sometimes even cruel, but he had saved them. Vessel had saved them. They all had.

"Even if I serve you no purpose, I hope you continue to accept me."

Sleep stood up and took a big stretch. "Your purpose is very simple!" He said, his six glowing eyes glistening in amusement. "It's following and worshipping me, which you can only do alive!"

III and IV rolled their eyes.

Vessel stepped up to the windowsill and took one of Noahs hands. It was just as warm and comforting, as in the night, he had saved them.

"Your purpose is being alive!" He said to them and maybe also a little to himself.

III and IV also came closer "You always have a place to belong with us!"

Noah hasn't cried since that night but they just might, overwhelmed by the warmth of the people standing before them.

II heaved himself on the windowsill next to them and put a comforting hand on their shoulder. "You’re allowed to be yourself, you know? None of us ever bought your cool loner shtick anyways!"

Noah stared at him dumbfounded and they all burst out laughing.

A bit later everyone said their good nights and went to sleep. When everything was quiet Noah snuck out and sat down in a field of wildflowers behind the mansion. They looked up at the sky again, their face hurting from laughing so much.

"I knew I’d find you here, you insomniac!" Vessel sat down next to them.

"As if you are any better!" Noah rolled their eyes. Vessel put down his mask next to him and looked up at the sky too. "I like this authentic version of you better." He grinned.

Noah glanced at his side profile, his unmasked face a rare sight, even amongst themselves.

"Hey can I ask you something?" They said.

Vessel closed his eyes and sprawled himself out on the field. "Go ahead."

"Why Noah? Why not just vessel xy?" This question has been bugging them for a while.

Vessel remained quiet for a while and Noah thought he might be sleeping but then opened his eyes and asked "Do you know what Noah means?"

They shook their head.

"Well as with most things, there’s more than just one meaning but one of them is peace. I wanted to give you what you desired, your name is my promise to you."

Noah nodded slowly and hid their face from Vessel’s vision. They didn’t want him to see the stream of tears running down their face. But their shaking back and choked up sounds exposed them anyways.

Vessel didn’t say anything but he hummed a comforting melody until the tears eventually disappeared behind heavy lids and a welcoming darkness offered it’s embrace. Noah thought that their sad story eventually got a good ending after all. "This is not the end, it is just the beginning!" They heard Sleeps strange voice in their head, before their conscious dwindled away.

Dumb lil bonus:

The next morning Noah felt like they were chewed up and spit back out by some monster. Their bones hurt and their vision blurry behind swollen eyes.

The vessels were all sitting at the table eating breakfast together. Only Vessel and Noah were absentmindedly staring at their plates. The Espera ladies chuckled glancing at them and II was sighing in exasperation.

"What’s up with them?" III asked in confusion.

"These two idiots fell asleep outside on the field and…"

"ACHOO!" Vessels loud sneeze echoed through the dining room. IV looking in disbelief as snot landed on his plate.

"They’re sick!" II sighed.

[our-aroace-experience]

Recently ive been coming to understand myself as aromantic, which is so interesting because I’ve thought of myself as a lesbian for so long. I think i feel some sort of alterous/sensual/other attraction to women that im still figuring out, but now that i see myself as aromantic i dont feel the need for labels as much as i used to. Its both funny and sad that I didn’t know this word for my feelings for so long, it really would have kept me front going through a lot of grief if I had an explanation, and I’m sure the same can be said for a number of people.

Some things I remembered recently that should have really tipped me off to being aromantic when I first discovered the term years ago:

- hearing a rumor that my middle school bf might want to kiss me, causing me to run screaming and start crying in the bathroom. all the girls in my class followed me to the bathroom to make sure i was okay and my teacher freaked lol

- I almost never have nightmares, and when I do I’m never spooked by them. But I’ve had several where someone confessed their feelings for me and I begrudgingly accepted their advances because I felt bad for them and didn’t want to hurt their feelings. Everytime I woke up from these dreams I felt really anxious and nervous and would avoid the person I dreamt about until I felt better.

- actually started considering I was aro years ago! But then my (very misguided) friend told me that wasn’t possible and that I liked [name of ex gf]. I took them at their word bc im a fool lol and we dated for 10 months !

- getting frustrated when my friends had dating drama with each other, especially when it was unrequited. I can recall saying often that they should just be happy to have the other person in their life at all.

- hating most romance in movies/tv. That could be because it is often poorly written or is could be me being romance repulsed who knows lol

- the first thing that really tipped me off to being aro was that I really don’t see the hype about Zendaya and literally everyone does 💀 except me apparently

i’m glad you’ve figured it out, even if it took a lot of signs lol. i wish you luck in finding a label for your other attraction if you decide you’d like to!

[scary-grace]

hello! I started reading kairos a while back, and now i've finally caught up and i gotta say i absolutely love it <3 especially the way you write horror. I also read a couple of your other fics and the scenes that stick out to me are when dr. O first sees the hand in the fireplace(kairos), and when the infected neighbor is checking all the doors in bard's house (seeking a friend). Leaves me so spooked its great :). I also made these pieces as a style experiment. Im gonna post these on my acc but i also wanted to send them to you. I also wanted to try and visualize the horror, though nothing i can do now can hold a candle to your writing. Okay ive talked enough, have a good night ✌️

I’m so glad you’ve enjoyed Kairos so far! (and ‘seeking a friend’!). The horror aspect of those stories was one of my favorite parts of writing them, and it’s always so nice to hear that they landed as intended! There were definitely a few parts of both fics where I scared myself writing them.

Moving on from that, YOUR ART IS SO GOOD!!! I can’t decide which of them I love more — the use of red as the only color in the first one and the starkness of the hand in contrast to the blackness inside the fireplace are both so striking! They both look so eerie and cool, and you’re really talented. (I’m sure you hear that a lot.) I’ve gone on at length about how someone doing art for a fic is among the best things that can happen to a fic writer, but you’ve given me another chance: I’m so thankful that you made these and especially thankful that you took the time to share them!

I hope you’re having an amazing day (I can say mine has been immensely improved). Thank you for taking the time to send this! I’m off to reblog your post approximately one billion times.

[krenenbaker]

Diasomnia Character Songs and Associations

It's finally here! The end of the character songs and associations series! It took a bit longer to get out than I thought it would, but it's now finished.

Here is the seventh dorm, Diasomnia; the dorm of the spirit of nobility. The final of the seven, but also, interestingly, the dorm that started this entire idea.

Notes: Every song is from my liked songs playlist (so feel free to judge me for my taste, haha!) and I only allowed myself to use an artist once for this project. There is also some strong language and mature themes in some of the songs, so be aware if you choose to listen to them. I’ve included: - A song that represents them, - A song they'd listen to, and (for some) an additional song, depending on the character and circumstance

The full Spotify playlist for ALL songs and characters is linked at the end of the post.

Heartslabyul | Savanaclaw | Octavinelle | Scarabia | Pomefiore | Ignihyde

Malleus Draconia

Represented by: Nymphs Finding the Head of Orpheus - Nicole Dollanganger

This song was actually what inspired me to make this series. It just reminds me so much of Malleus. The narrative setting is similar to the ruins he loves to explore, the music itself is somewhat ethereal, and the lyrics reflect the loneliness Malleus often feels, as well as his fear of loss and change.  It's powerful, it's reflective, it's strange, and it's beautiful. Much like Malleus himself.

Listens to: Symphony No. 40 in G Minor, K. 550: IV: Allegro assai - W.A. Mozart, Sinfonia Varsovia, Yehudi Menuhin

Malleus likely listens to primarily classical music, and probably knows how to play many of the pieces he listens to. He would especially enjoy the playfulness of Mozart's compositions, as most Mozart pieces (operas, symphonies, etc.) have a light mood, and are usually filled with jokes. Absolutely perfect for a fae prince!

Lilia Vanrouge

Represented by: Phantasmagoria - Polkadot Cadaver

This song feels very Lilia to me. With a focus on (possibly?) playful scaring, and the uncertain or hidden origins of what people see. There's spooks and startles, but is generally meant to be fun... or that's what's assumed. The Avant-Garde metal genre also suits the unique, fun intensity of Lilia's character.

Listens to: After Life in Purgatory - Lock Up

Okay, I know that 'Lock Up' is grindcore, and not the thrash metal that Lilia canonically listens to. BUT he would totally also listen to music like this. It's fast. It's loud. It's full of screaming. Lilia would love it! (And he'd probably somewhat relate to the lyrics of this song too, considering his past...)

Bonus - Suggests for Music Club: Renewal - Veil

Lilia would suggest something like Veil to play in Music Club, arguing that it's more "gentle" and "approachable" for non-metal fans than some other subgenres, which, yes, that may be the case, but still... Cater would be a bit freaked out.

Silver

Represented by: イジメ、ダメ、ゼッタイ - Babymetal

Silver is an interesting character, being both gentle and fierce simultaneously, which is well-encapsulated in Babymetal's music. The lyrics to this song also are akin to Silver's worldview, and his wish for balance, harmony, and connection.

Listens to: Over the Edge - Sarah Jarosz

I think Silver would listen to softer music, probably a lot of folk, bluegrass, and country music. and, like Jade, he would especially love songs about nature and the outdoors. It just seems like it would suit him!  However, I also think he shares a lot of his father's taste in music, resulting in some very strange playlists...

Sebek

Represented by: Soap - The Oh Hellos

Sebek seems to struggle a lot with his mixed identity, outright rejecting half of his heritage. (I think that's something he will learn to accept at some point in the future, and be able to become even stronger in himself and his identity as a result.) However, Sebek is also a bold, determined individual, and truly cares deeply for those he loves and respects... even if he may not outwardly show it.

Listens to: String Quartet No. 6 in F Minor, Op. 80, MWV R37: II: Allegro assai - Felix Mendelssohn, Quatuor Ébène

Because I think Malleus favours classical string music, I also think that Sebek would believe that he should also listen to similar music (as it is obviously superior!) And while he does enjoy many classical pieces, especially Mendelssohn's compositions, it would probably not be Sebek's preferred music in most situations, even if he does listen to it often.

Bonus - Prefers to listen to: Oscar Wilde Gets Out - Elton John

I'm not totally sure why, but I think Sebek would really like music by Elton John! I think that the softer pop rock sound would be something he would enjoy. Oscar Wilde Gets Out would definitely appeal to Sebek, for the literary allusions and references if nothing else.

[starrysharks]

ok as a person who dressed very alt most of the time, you really dont gotta worry so much about being filmed by under 25yos. its not that common. it DOES happen, its happened to me but really not that much. i only ever have it happen when im dressed in lolita and uts usually by older people.

when younger people look at you its usually because they think you look cool. ive had many 12 year olds stare at me and half the time they come up later and compliment me or i overhear them say something to whoever their with abt my cool outfit.

people filming others just tryna live their lives IS a real issue but it is very uncommon for people to just film strangers dressed emo/goth/punk to post online.

i dont mean this to sound aggressive in any way. i just know i was nervous about this myself when i first started dressing alt and a lot of people i know were too. its really not a big worry though. u less your outfit is REALLY out there (such as lolita fashion) its unlikely people will photograph you. and most of the time when they do its older people who wanna show it to people they know, at least in my experience.

and if you are worried about people judging you in general, young people really dont care much. its common for younger people to stare at people they think look cool because of being nervous to compliment them. honestly, alt outfits are pretty accepted by young people.

i hope you can keep dressing cool and how you want!

thank you for the ask !!! i was originally nervous because i saw a lot of people on tiktok talking about being barked at and filmed, as someone who really hates even having pictures taken it spooked me out lol >_> here in britain (at least where i live), most people dress very simply with sports brand jackets/nondescript clothes, so alternative people do stand out a bit! but i honestly don't mind what people think because i felt super confident doing it the first time, it's good to hear that most ppl are chill with it :]

[ssseriema]

figured id send something more positive too and i thought this might make you laugh, but im like slowly working on my fear of bugs and my arachnophobia and im trying to do so by like. this is so silly but ive been just like addressing bugs as little people. like i say hi to ants like theyre my homies and i talk to little pill bugs and beetles and stink bugs and moths, and im getting way better with bees!! bees used to scare me a lot but im getting a lot better with making myself relax when they fly by instead of freaking out because i know they wont just sting me unless i provoke them or make them scared, and ive even been able to like gently help some moths out when theyre in trouble or i see them hurt themselves :) even with the spiders thing ive been trying to slowly get more comfortable like... existing near them, kind of a "you stay in your space and ill stay in mine" and i used to talk to the spiders on my balcony and joke around like "i respect women at work so much godspeed women" @ the spider 😭 just thought this would make you smile :) also bug facts are super helpful!! actually learning about them and learning which ones are harmless or harmful and learning facts about them and learning that they wont hurt me if i dont hurt them has been so helpful :) just a silly little positive update :D im still scared, especially of spiders, but im trying my best!!! ❤️

waitttt thats so cute.. its true... bugs are like little guys. and hey the fact that youre tryna overcome your fear of bugs is already like massive and really awesome and brave. i know its hard cause my big sister has always been afraid of me and i know several people who will scream at butterflies or ants. i dont blame them for that tbh, everyones got their own phobias and icks and fears, but my respect for a person increases dramatically when they still try to be kind to those creatures regardless, they are trying to make it in this world as any other animal is (including us!!!)

and i agree that knowing more about bugs can help you be less afraid of them!!! im gonna say a secret and reveal that i didnt always like bugs lol. it wasnt until end of highschool/start of college that my interest really was sparked by them. the only experiences with bugs i remember really well from when i was young are when ants once climbed up my shoes and legs, being scared shitless of bees (and even more wasps), and being really grossed out by roaches. however, educating oneself does wonders, and it turns out that you can even discover one of your biggest passions through it!!!! like its a little crazy going from highschool (didnt like bugs) to going all the way to chicago just to see some of them. thats why at every opportunity i have i try to share my limited knowledge, others learn something new and i get a chance to nerd out!

just today i mentioned the sound of the cicadas while i was hanging out with my physics lab mates, and one of them was like "oh yeah i always wondered what those were, thought they were like grasshoppers or something. do they bite?" the answer is no, and its like wonderful that i know enough about cicadas to say that and maybe even soothe someones apprehension of them

about spiders, one little guy that ive heard helps people with arachnophobia are jumping spiders! theres a ton of videos on youtube about building little vivariums and habitats for them, and the spiders themselves are really cute. personally when i see a jumping spider i get really excited because they have awesome colors/patterns and theyre small and smart enough that i know theres no way they will hurt me. ive even tried to handle a couple of them (sorry spiders for bothering you) and they are just one of the most pleasant creatures ive met (they are pretty darty and they jump tho so it can be easy to get spooked when you dont expect it lmao)

so yeah, my hats off to you. since i started paying attention to bugs my life has gotten a little brighter (and its also inspired me to go outside more lolol). it makes me happy when my friends send me pictures of bugs because they think theyre cool or they wanna ask me what the bug is, because it means i have more chances to engage with the world of arthropods AND talk to my friends! maybe even make new ones! who fuckin knows